


A Little Indulgence

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 15:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17226767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: Somehow I managed to miss the MFMM 2018 Year of Quote Challenge for the month of April. It may have had something to do with being distracted while admiring the flora and fauna of Australia with lovely friends.Thankfully our mistress of the spreadsheets, Firesign, has provided us with December amnesty , so I canslide this in just a little late.The quote I chose is from the bard himself:SONNET 27Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,I hope you enjoy this little fluff and nonsense.I wish many New Years blessings to you all.The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;But then begins a journey in my head,To work my mind, when body's work's expired:For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,Looking on darkness which the blind do see:Save that my soul's imaginary sightPresents thy shadow to my sightless view,Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.





	A Little Indulgence

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher had many indulgences, they had been hard won and she was not here to apologize. And perhaps none had been more hard fought than the one currently curled up in her tangled satin sheets, softly snoring.

 

She looked down fondly in the dark shadows of her boudoir, at the prone figure who was quite literally down for the count. She really should feel a little remorse at the indulgence she had taken with the beautiful man currently residing in her bed; he had been working very long hours of late and looked very weary when he had presented himself at her front door for a late dinner.

 

Nevertheless, she had barely seen him in the last couple of weeks and as the hour drew late, his hair escaped the confines of it's pomade and his tie was loosened along with the top button on his dress shirt, to reveal the lovely notch below his Adams apple. The one that begged to be kissed. And when he looked at her that way, well what was a red blooded woman to do. So their appetites were sated this evening, in several ways, in lieu of sleep. It was his own damned fault for looking so delicious. He _was_ a grown man after all and could look after himself, and if the object of his affection wanted to ravish him senseless...

 

She adjusted her black beret, looked again lovingly at the still figure, resisted the urge to lay a palm to his flushed countenance and slipped out the door. A senseless Detective Inspector was very convenient to _all_ her plans this evening.

 

Cec and Bert were to meet her at a lane way around the corner from her house, but when she got there, there was no handy red raggers to be seen. She knew this was a lot to ask of her cabbies, to be out and about at the ungodly hour of two bells, for some nocturnal investigation, but she always showed her gratitude and compensated them well for the time and inconvenience.

 

The breath steamed from her mouth in the chill of the evening, and she rubbed her forearms to warm up as she contemplated next steps. She wore only a light black jacket, sweater and trousers; a heavy coat would have been a hindrance to her movement tonight. If her intelligence gathering had resulted in correct information, she would have to scale at least one floor tonight. Working her lock-picks on the myriad number of doors this house contained would not be prudent in this case. The owner of said house was conveniently away for the evening, visiting the estate of one of his mistresses, however his man servant surely would be on alert.

 

Blackmail was a cowardly business and Phryne felt the urge to draw and quarter this man. The young woman, who had come to them for help regarding some compromising letters written in her careless youth, was beyond desperate and feared her marriage would be compromised if the husband she loved dearly were ever to see them.

 

Yes, a despicable crime. How many other lives had this man ruined with his poison. Phryne was determined to gain access to the house and the man's hiding place tonight, to confirm there was evidence enough to prosecute.

Jack may have the power of a search warrant in the morning, but that left a whole five hours for things to go terribly wrong and she was not prepared to temp fate.

 

Finally she heard the taxi's purring engine as it rounded a corner and came into view.

 

“Sorry we're late, Miss.”

 

Bert, cigarette end barely hanging from his lower lip, looked disgustedly over at his friend and business partner, who was driving, “You and that bloody chook,” he groused.

 

Cec shrugged and smiled sheepishly, “Mildred got out of her pen and I had to chase her down in the neighbour's yard next door.”

 

Bert scoffed.

 

“Admirable, but lets get going while its still dark, shall we,” suggested the lady detective.

 

Arriving at the three story terrace home set back off the road, amidst a thick barrier of hedgerow and surrounded by a formidable iron fence, Phryne told the boys to park further down the street and she stealthily made her way to the back of the property through a lane-way. She hid behind some bushes as she eyed the impenetrable heavy lock on an iron gate that was embedded in the brick wall surrounding the back garden. Working that lock might result in an unacceptable amount of noise so it was over the wall with her then. Avoiding the spikes along the top, she dropped quickly to the soft flower bedding and stepped quickly to the back wall of the house.

 

She smiled slightly at the handy drain pipe running up the side of the building and she was up it and on the second level balcony it a moment. Her perusal of the house floor plans, that Dot had hunted up for her, had revealed a study across the hall from the master bedroom, where no doubt a safe or hidden compartment would exist. The plans did not reveal a hidden cubby hole or passage, but that was not to say that the man had not thought of it, to safeguard his 'means of business' as it were. She was going in blind in a way.

 

What she hadn't anticipated were the iron bars on the study windows. Really, the man had created a fortress. She peered up at the balcony above her head. The plans had shown guest bedrooms or perhaps servant quarters on the third floor, so she returned to the water pipe and clambered up another level. The windows were not barred here and it took but a minute to gently and soundlessly pry the sash up. She slowly stuck her head through the break in the curtains and seeing nothing untoward in the gloom, gently raised one leg through, her hands and other knee on the window-sill. She stepped into the room and crouched down, taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted.

 

There appeared to be a large double bed taking up most of the space, headboard against a curtained wall. To the immediate side of the bed was a night table and lamp. Across from her was the door, which was closed, and to her right an armoire. Beside the armoire was a wash stand with pitcher and bowl. On the far side of the room between the night table and door was an armchair.

 

She looked closer and stopped breathing...

 

In the dark, she could barely make out what appeared to be a ghostly apparition hovering in the armchair. The silhouette gradually became clearer and she huffed, trying not to smile.

 

“I was as quiet as a mouse,” she pouted, whispering.

 

The response was a quiet trademark, “Harrumph”, followed shortly thereafter by...

 

“I've lost count as to how many times I have had to remind you that you really can't go around removing evidence, Miss Fisher?”, he was trying so hard to be stern.

 

She ignored his point and asked instead, “How... how... you were sleeping soundly when I left.”

 

“I am a detective, in case you had not noticed. And I have intimate knowledge of the miscreant before me.”

 

There were many things she loved about this man, but she had to admit begrudgingly that one of her favourite things was his ability to surprise and challenge her, and sometimes be one step ahead. She crept over to the chair where he sat resignedly, his large hands on the armrests. She could swear she could see the deep, deep blue amid the whites of his eyes, dazzling and... unamused.

She quietly settled herself gently onto his lap and felt his arms stiffen, then begrudgingly surrender to enfold her. She kissed the part of his cheek that was currently indented from the clenching of his jaw.

 

“I was just trying to help with your inquiries, Jack,” she nuzzled against his nose and nestled into the crook of his neck. He smelt and felt wonderful and warm.

 

“Says the words on my epitaph....,”

 

“I thought if I could secure the evidence...”

 

“Inadmissible, Miss Fisher.”

 

“Well, at least I didn't follow through on the urge to do him in, vile creature that he is!”

 

“I'm glad you resisted... now, shall we go home and try to get some semblance of sleep before I have to be back here in the morning.”

 

“Are you going to tell me how you got in?”

 

“Perhaps, but I see no advantage in it for me to reveal my secrets?”

 

“Well, keep talking like that, Inspector, and you really won't get any sleep.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am a huge Sherlock Holmes nerd, the original Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stories and the best imho adaption - Jeremy Brett's Sherlock Holmes Granada produced series. This story is a little nod to the episode 'The Master Blackmailer' from the series' The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes (1991–1993). And a little gift to one of my partners in crime @solitarycyclist.


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